Eightytwo hours
by lovewornheart
Summary: This is what she'd want. I almost smile at the thought. She would want us to live. To love. To take the chances she never could. - set at the end of 'Lauren.' Garcia POV.


**Title:** Eighty-two hours  
**Pa****iring: **Morgan/Garcia, Criminal Minds  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** This is what she'd want. I almost smile at the thought. She would want us to live. To love. To take the chances she never could.  
**Spoilers:** 6x18, 'Lauren'  
**Disclaimer: **These characters aren't mine. They belong to CBS. Nonetheless I sometimes like to put words in their mouths. Just for fun. No copyright infringement intended.

**A/N: **follows at the end.

* * *

**:::Eighty-two hours:::**

They won't stop.

The tears.

They won't stop falling. Slipping from the corner of my eyes, taking my mascara with them, leaving tracks where they fell.

It's been eighty-two hours.

Eighty-two hours since we were all gathered in that sterile hospital waiting room, praying for a miracle. Eighty-two hours since JJ pushed through the door, and I knew, with just one look, that my dear friend was gone.

_Gone._

It's been eighty-two hours. Already.

The longest eighty-two hours of my life. Swept away in a whirlwind of grief. Passed in a haze of fresh hot tears, warm chocolate skin, rough-voiced whispers. And whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey. Irish, no less.

_Fuck. _

And now we're here. All of us again. But this time we're gathered in a sterile cemetery, praying over the casket of our departed friend as the last days of winter give way to the first signs of spring. In another life I would have smiled at a day like this - warm sun bathing everything in the pale light of the new season. But, not today. Today I'm cold. Numb. Exhausted. Spring be damned, there is winter in my heart.

It's been eighty-two hours.

And now she's leaving us. For good. Forever. I watch as they lower her body into the frozen ground. And it's completely irrational, but in this moment - in a frantic rush - all I can think is: won't she be cold? Lonely? Scared? My mind is silently railing. I want to see her one last time. Hold her. Kiss her forehead. Tell her: I love you. I'll miss you. You are one of my best friends. One of my greatest joys. The sister I never had.

I want my own goodbye.

The tears are urgent now. This is real.

_This. Is. Real. _

_Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. _

This is fucking happening.

I bite down on my lip, hard, and the metallic taste on my tongue is almost a comfort. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block everything out, trying to still the tears. But they won't stop. No matter how hard I try. No matter how many deep shuddering breaths I take. The tears won't stop. And right now, part of me thinks they never will.

It's been eighty-two hours.

I'm trying to understand. Trying to envision what life will be like without her there. Without her laugh. Her goofy smile. Her teasing. Her wisdom. Her giant heart. Trying to imagine how I'll get through the next hour, day, week, month, year. How I will ever be the same.

Oh. God. I think I am breaking. I think this is what it feels like to absolutely fucking lose it.

And that's when he saves me.

Just one simple gesture. His fingertips. Brushing against my palm. His hand. Sliding across mine. Our fingers threading together. Hands clasped. Grip tight. Knuckles turning white. Our heads are both bowed, eyes downcast, but I don't need to shift my gaze to see he's crying. I don't need to look into his eyes to know he's drowning in this grief too. I can feel it in his touch, the way his thumb absentmindedly traces circles on the back of my hand, seeking comfort, anchoring us both.

And in that moment I know how I'll get through this. Sheltered by the warmth of his touch, the strength of his love. Our love. This is what she'd want. I almost smile at the thought. She would want us to live.

To love.

To take the chances she never could.

He squeezes my hand, like he's reading my mind. Steps closer to me, so that our bodies are pressed close together. Holding each other up. I close my eyes, take a deep breath. The first real breath in a long time. That's when I let myself finally taste it - the spring on the air. My heart warms a little.

And in the trees above, I hear the birds sing.

* * *

**A/N: **after everything that happened to the team in 'Lauren', amongst all of the heartbreak and anguish, it just really touched me to see Derek reach out and take Penelope's hand. To seek and offer comfort. To be both strong and vulnerable. It was just a simple gesture but it says everything about the connection they share.


End file.
